Meanwhile, the rest of us got back to the investigation into the car accident. Koen and Lanie combed through the police report as well as looked through photos of the crime scene. I’d never seen any of them. It was one thing I couldn’t bring myself to do. I didn’t need to look at pictures when I lived through the devastation and replayed it in my nightmares.
Waverly and I took the medical records to her office. She read through mine, while I had Sloane’s. I flipped through pages of lab and X-ray reports, not expecting to find much in those, until I reached the section labeled physician’s notes. Each one read like a grocery list of injuries. Sloane had numerous contusions, a broken rib, but the most serious was the skull fracture, which was complicated by cerebral edema, swelling on her brain. They’d kept her in a medically induced coma for two weeks until the swelling was down enough to wake her up. Once again, I had the overwhelming urge to drive back to Quantico and beat the shit out of Niall.
Waverly drummed her nails against the wooden table, breaking my concentration. After so many years of being friends, I knew when something was plaguing her mind. Finally, she put the file down, sat back in her seat, and grinned wide.
“Say it, Way.”
“Love looks good on you.”
“Feels good too.”
“How are things?”
“They’d be perfect if I could get a read on Rogan.”
My son and I were on shaky ground. There were times when I thought I’d finally made some headway, only to beknocked back down. He was hurt and confused, I just didn’t know how to help him through it, or if he’d even let me. How did you convince a seven-year-old that you weren’t going anywhere?
“It’s only been a few days. Be patient. He’ll come around.”
We went back to work. Another twenty minutes passed. Pressing my fists into my back, I arched, trying to alleviate the tightness from sitting in one place for so long. When that didn’t work, I opted for a walk. My coffee needed a refill anyway. Getting up from my seat, I grabbed my mug and was half a step into the hallway when Waverly called out my name. I turned, leaning against the doorframe.
“You never told me you were shot before.”
“Because I haven’t been.”
“Then why does this say they pulled a bullet out of your chest, along with shrapnel from the car accident?”
“There has to be some mistake.” I stormed to her desk on shaky legs, snatching the papers from her. “Let me see that.”
“D, what the hell is going on?”
I quickly scanned the report. Then I read it again, slower this time, except the words didn’t change. My hand flew to the scar on my chest, to the place that almost cost me my life. Memories from that day flashed through my brain, coming faster and faster until the room around me faded into blackness. Physically, I was in Waverly’s office, but mentally, I was almost nine years in the past.
I gasped, coming awake abruptly. Fuck, that hurt. Everything hurt. Where the hell was I? I blinked, trying to clear away the fog blurring my vision. It was thicker than smoke.
Smoke!
No, no, no.
The accident. Where was Sloane?
Turning my head to the side, I saw her. She was fifteen yards away from me, lying so still I couldn’t be sure whether she was breathing or not. I had to get to her. I had to save us both somehow.
“Sloane!” I croaked.
No response.
“Fuck!”
Knives stabbed at my chest when I tried to roll on my side and my back felt like the skin was being ripped from the bone. That’s when I remembered the small explosion that happened seconds after I pulled Sloane from the car. The blast had thrown us like rag dolls, leaving its fiery imprint on my flesh. It didn’t matter. Nothing did, except getting to Sloane. Not even the pain.
Black spots dotted my vision when I tried to move again. I couldn’t give up. If I did, we were both dead. On my third attempt, something moved in the distance, beyond Sloane. Someone was there.
“Help us, please,” I begged.
A figure stepped out from behind the trees, stepping over Sloane’s body, not stopping until they were standing over me. The person bent down, picking up a piece of metal, which had landed off to the side, and laid it across my chest. I couldn’t see their face, it was shrouded in shadows, but I saw a gun and heard a voice.
“We could’ve done great things together.”